Unexpected Adventure
by GirlFromBrooklyn
Summary: (Post CA: CW) Bucky/OC fic. Violet does not completely understand her abilities. She is in hiding and enjoys her life as a librarian. But per the request of her friend, T'Challa, Violet agrees to help heal the mind of Bucky Barnes in Wakanda. What begins as a request to help bring Bucky back to the world turns into something much bigger, something unexpected.
1. Prologue

**Unexpected Adventure**

 **Prologue**

Violet's back hit the wall. Hard. Her immediate thought was _I'm dead_ , but the sudden pain forced her back to the reality that she was indeed still alive. _Odd,_ she thought, as she winced through the pain that seemed to fluctuate between her lower and upper back.

The coppery taste in her mouth alerted Violet that she was bleeding. _Where is the blood coming from?_ The woman painfully lifted her arm – the one that was not broken – to touch her face. Confirming the blood was from an external wound slightly calmed Violet's nerves.

But not for long.

A strong hand gripped her throat and lifted her off of her feet. It took great difficulty for Violet to comprehend that the life was being choked out of her. _So tired. Just let it happen._ Her vision began to blur and her good arm was getting tired of weakly fighting her attacker.

"You want me to end you, don't you?" Her attacker hissed. Violet could barely make out his face. He was just a dark figure in a dark room that was fixated on the woman in its grip. "Just say the word, I'll set you free. Just be with me. It will all be okay." His voice sounded so human, yet, his strength was terrifyingly godly.

 _Never,_ Violet thought. She must have said the word aloud as her attacker grew angry and tossed her on the floor. Again.

Violet, on her side, carefully cradled her broken arm and looked up at her assailant.

"Do it," the woman whimpered. Her gaze turned dark and she narrowed her eyes. " _Do it_."

The man's hand was illuminated with a red, fiery light. He extended his arm toward Violet. She closed her eyes and waited.

What happened next could not be clearly explained – Violet did not reopen her eyes to watch Death finally claim her. Instead, Violet heard a thundering bang and felt debris hit her face. She could feel people surround her. Not sure if a bomb had gone off or if she was being rescued, Violet delicately moved herself until she felt the wall.

More sounds of fighting and shouting occurred. Violet leaned against the wall and opened her eyes.

The warehouse was almost crumbling around her. The roof was about to cave in and she watched her attacker stand proudly with his arms open. The people who Violet assumed were there to protect her were shooting at the man. Violet's vision began to clear and she saw that her saviors were a group of women. The women were dark-skinned and were attired in dark combat attire.

To further surprise Violet, she watched as a new figure entered the fight. As the guns were only useful in entertaining Violet's attacker, the new figure took his turn.

Violet recognized him to be the Black Panther.

The Black Panther ordered the woman away and two of them scurried to Violet's side.

One of the women crouched down to Violet's side. "We must go. Now. Move."

With the help of these women, Violet rose to her feet.

Her vision blurred again and Violet was grateful someone was able to catch her. _So tired. So confused. Let's just go._

Violet could hear her attacker laughing while the Black Panther failed in detaining him.

She opened her eyes to get a clear view. Violet watched the Black Panther dodge the red light shooting from the attacker's hands. The Black Panther's movements were so quick and elegant, it was hard to make out if the Black Panther had been injured at all.

The woman on Violet's right urged her to continue moving. "We must go."

Violet looked around to see the destruction continue. The women who came to her aid were trying to move Violet safely from the warehouse.

Instead, Violet watched the Black Panther try to take down the attacker, but to no avail.

The women sent to protect Violet became frustrated when Violet suddenly turned around and limped away from the exit.

"No, you must come with us!" someone shouted at Violet.

Still cradling her broken arm, Violet glared at her attacker still laughing at the Black Panther and shooting the red light out from his hands.

"No more," Violet whispered to herself. She raised her good arm toward the attacker.

The Black Panther landed on his feet easily, again having avoided the attacker's power. He looked over at Violet whose hand was directed at the man.

The man, still hidden in the shadows, turned to look at Violet.

Similar to the man's red light, Violet's hand was suddenly lit up, but with a gray light.

"NO MORE!" Violet shouted angrily as the light shot from her hand and successfully claimed her attacker. Her power, in just the one shot, was seen by the Black Panther and the Dora Milaje as more powerful than the man they had just been fighting.

Surrounded by a tornado of gray energy, the man's eyes turned red and a horrid yell escaped his lips before bursting into dust.

The Dora Milaje looked confused as each woman turned to one another, trying to understand what had happened.

The Black Panther turned toward Violet. Violet could not see his face but felt that he too was trying to make sense of the event.

Violet turned back to stare at the spot where the man had once been. She pursed her lips, laughed abruptly, and then immediately passed out.


	2. Chapter 1: 6 Months Later

**Chapter 1:** 6 Months Later…

The New York Public Library was swamped one Saturday afternoon. Unlike the regular expectation of a busy day consisting of curious tourists and the city locals, the library was filled with excited patrons awaiting the debut of the new exhibit.

Banners within the library read "A Story of Super Heroes" and had images of Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Natasha Romanoff, and more members of the Avengers.

A tour guide adjusted her nametag, reading LISA, and smiled brightly as a group of middle schoolers approached her.

Lisa clapped her hands excitedly as she greeted the group of pre-teens. "Welcome to the New York Public Library everyone!" She was greeted back with the same level of enthusiasm from the students.

"Today, we get to review our new exhibit, 'A Story of Super Heroes.' We'll get to see and learn more about those we call the Avengers." The tour guide motioned for the students to follow her.

Lisa led the students down a hallway adorned with pictures, newspaper articles, and other documents showcasing the biggest stories surrounding the Avengers and their missions.

"We opened the exhibit to celebrate the final revision of the Sokovia Accords," Lisa explained to interested youngsters. "As we all remember, the Sokovia Accords were first introduced about five months ago to change the way the Avengers could assist their country and the world. And with recent events and new information provided, the President himself amended the accords in order to reinstate and grant amnesty to the Avengers."

The students cheered. One girl stopped at a framed newspaper article with the headline: "PRESIDENT MEETS WITH IRON MAN AND CAPTAIN AMERICA. AVENGERS BACK IN BUSINESS."

Turning a sharp corner, Lisa laughed wildly. The students laughed as they watched the tour guide almost crash into another person.

Lisa straightened out her pant suit and turned to the students. "Sorry kids. I almost ruined this poor librarian's day."

Violet, arms full of binders, gave a small smile to the students.

"This is Violet. She is the main lead and archivist who helped assist with this exhibit," Lisa explained.

The students waved at Violet. Following the tour guide's bubbly energy, the students and Lisa disappeared down a different hall.

Violet continued her direction to a private backroom.

Her office was unfortunately in the basement. Violet, however, made no real complaints as she had privacy.

Violet placed the thick binders on her crowded desk and sat down at her chair tiredly. She pinched her nose and leaned her head back.

Taking in deep, slow breaths, Violet closed her eyes and rubbed her face.

"Long day?" a deep voice spoke from the corner.

Nearly falling out of her chair, Violet jumped up, hands lit up in gray light, and prepared to attack.

Her pose softened when Violet realized T'Challa was leaning against the wall.

"T'Challa," Violet sighed, "what the hell? You scared me."

The Wakandan king laughed. Violet watched as three members of the Dora Milaje appeared from the shadows too.

"I need to call Maintenance about the lighting in here," Violet joked, "I had no idea you guys were here. Pretty stealthy."

The king and protector of Wakanda approached Violet and embraced her. "Good to see you, Vi."

Violet patted T'Challa's back and pulled away. "Good to see you. Considering all things."

"I hope you are enjoying your new job here at the library," T'Challa asked.

"At least I'm not moving around so much anymore," Violet shrugged. "Consistency is nice."

T'Challa turned to the Dora Milaje and nodded his head. The women nodded back and proceeded to leave T'Challa and Violet in her office alone.

Violet turned to T'Challa, perplexed, and put her hands on her hips. "What's going on?"

T'Challa motioned for Violet to sit down. She hesitated at first, but slowly sat back down in the chair.

T'Challa leaned against Violet's desk. Violet became immediately concerned.

"T'Challa, what is it? Is it _him_? He's back-"

"No no," T'Challa coaxed. He placed a hand over Violet's. "We have had no reports of sightings. This is…complicated."

She licked her lips and Violet took in a deep breath. "Why are you here?"

He shifted uncomfortably; T'Challa, while dressed coolly in an all black suit, could not hide his reluctance to speak.

"C'mon, talk to me," Violet asked gently.

He pushed his lips tightly together and T'Challa finally spoke: "I need your help."

Her eyes widened and Violet smiled. "That's it? That was easy. I'd love to help. In any way I can. What is it?"

T'Challa bit his lip.

"Oh," Violet slowly realized. She looked down at her hands. "You know…when I said in _any_ way I can…there are some things…"

"I know it's been a long time," T'Challa said calmly. "I know you have struggled with his power. Learning new abilities. Understanding the difficulties." He leaned in, putting a comforting hand on Violet's shoulder. "But I think I have someone who truly needs your help. Only you can help."

Violet slumped further back into her chair. She touched her chin, thinking, and then rose to her feet.

"You know I can't. I'm not good at any of this. I'm still…" Violet looked down at her hands fearfully. "This is still…"

T'Challa stood with Violet.

"You are familiar with Sergeant Barnes?" T'Challa asked suddenly.

Violet rolled her eyes. "Of course," she laughed. "I'm a librarian now, remember?"

"He is currently at one of my facilities."

Her mouth dropped open. "What? You have him?"

Nodding, T'Challa continued, "He is of no danger. Currently. But Steve Rogers has been adamant in helping his friend. I believe you are the answer to that."

"How?"

"Come to Wakanda with me. I believe your powers can help heal his mind…to an extent. I believe you are capable of removing what Hydra put inside of his mind."

Violet threw her hands in the air and walked away. "No way! That's someone's mind I'd be messing with!" She spun around, looking angrily at her friend. "I've only done the mind-thing a couple of times. It hasn't worked! And I don't want to hurt anyone."

T'Challa raised his hands in defense. "I believe that you can do this, Violet. I believe that trying will not cause damage."

"Unless I fry his brain."

"Violet, please."

The woman groaned and looked away. She stared at her dark office and new boring life. Violet thought about rejecting T'Challa's request. _Just be a boring librarian. Just say no._

But Violet turned to look at her friend's face. How could she refuse him? Violet remembered T'Challa's rescue from the warehouse. From _him_.

 _What could it hurt to try? You could help someone. Or you could kill him, accidentally._

Violet's shoulders fell in defeat. She pointed at T'Challa and said, "I have to check with my boss."

 **Author's Note:**

I am writing again to get the creative juices flowing. It's been a long time since I've written fanfiction. All feedback welcome. Please and thanks!


	3. Chapter 2: Violet's Story

**Chapter 2: Violet's Story**

Night had fallen by the time Violet return to her Brooklyn apartment. She disarmed the alarm entering through the door. There was a sigh of relief when Violet flicked the lights on and found she was the only one there. Relief was followed by a sullen reaction, realizing the twenty-seven-year-old was always returning to an empty home.

The studio apartment was luckily not the quintessential too-small New York apartment. T'Challa's compassion for Violet led to his generous gift of the apartment. Although he had originally offered her a more luxurious apartment, Violet preferred something she could manage on her own.

After all, T'Challa had done enough.

The apartment had a wall splitting the bedroom area and the dining/living areas. Her queen-sized bed was neatly made and the apartment itself was kept meticulously clean. Having few possessions and items in the apartment luckily allowed the benefit of an always tidy home.

In the dining area sat a lonely bistro table with two chairs; the living room contained a beige love seat, a coffee table, and a small flat screen.

The kitchen was probably the smallest area of the apartment. She had a small stove and a microwave; the cabinets generally maintained Tupperware and a few dishes. The white kitchen island made the space feel more homely.

Violet threw in a freezer meal into the microwave and decided it was time to pack.

She got to her knees and pulled a black duffel bag from underneath the bed. Behind her stood the small drawer and vanity. Violet was practically done packing clothes by the time the microwave _DING!_ went off.

X.X.X.X.X.

The duffel bag sat by the front door as Violet armed the alarm before bed. She took a final look around the apartment before she turned the lights off.

She went into the bathroom and started her nightly routine – brush teeth, mouthwash, wash face, and sleeping pill. Violet stared at herself in the mirror with a trivial shrug. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt with _BROOKLYN_ in bold print. Violet ran her hands through her long brown, curly hair; she thought about the haircut it desperately needed. As also part of her nightly routine, Violet lifted her shirt and stared at her stomach, pinching at her sides and belly, and sighing. Not having been on the run in quite some time meant Violet was gaining weight. _Good weight,_ Violet thought.

Violet pulled back the blue-and-white checkered comforter and climbed into bed. She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand and read a text message from T'Challa: _5:00 AM._

She set the alarm and put the phone back in its place. Violet immediately felt uncomfortable lying in bed, realizing she would soon be flying to Wakanda to try to help a man she had never met. _You could have just told T'Challa "No." You could just stay here. Work in the library. Stay hidden. Live life._

The mental quarrel Violet had with herself did not last long as the sleeping pill won the final battle.

X.X.X.X.X.

Steve Rogers and T'Challa sat in the backseat of a luxury private vehicle. T'Challa was texting on his phone as Steve reviewed information on a small tablet in his large hands. Still not used to modern technology, Steve handled the tablet as if it would break with his touch.

As Steve had not officially been Captain America in quite some time, he let stubble remain on his face and his hair had grown thicker. He wore a dark brown leather jacket with a red T-shirt. If he was not Captain America, there was no point in dressing like a solider anymore.

T'Challa was in his normal all-black attire.

There was an annoyed groan in Steve's chest. T'Challa looked over, smiled, and swiped the tablet's screen to allow Steve back to the information he was reading.

"Thanks," Steve said. "These things are too damn sensitive."

"Of course, captain," T'Challa said. Steve ignored the "captain" nickname and continued through the tablet.

On the screen was an image of Violet. Unknown to Steve, the image was taken from her employee file at the library. Violet's hair was pulled back into a conservative bun and she wore a white button-up.

There was a bit of information below Violet's picture:

 _Violet Smith_

 _DOB: March 8, 1990_

 _Place of Birth: Unknown_

 _Parent(s):_

 _Mother: Unknown. Asian descent._

 _Father: Real name unknown. Alias of "Arthur Smith". English descent. Surrey, England._

 _Enhanced abilities. Origins unknown._

Steve continued to swipe the tablet's screen. "Not too much information on her?" Steve asked with a concerned tone in his voice.

T'Challa did not look at Steve or the tablet. "She is the only one that I know that may be able to assist Barnes." T'Challa put his cell phone away in his coat pocket.

Steve scrolled through and said, "Looks like your notes are missing some details. Six months ago she was picked up from a warehouse in Paris. She remained in Wakanda until she was moved to New York three months ago."

He narrowed his eyes at the small screen and Steve spoke aloud, "No previous addresses. No relatives. No employment history. This girl is a ghost."

Steve turned to T'Challa. "What are her abilities?"

T'Challa breathed, "We are here, captain."

Steve looked up and realized the car had pulled into the hangar. A large, luxurious private plane awaited them.

The men got out of the car and Steve saw a few members of the Dora Milaje waiting to greet them. A couple of men dressed in black suits addressed T'Challa and then carried the bags from the car toward the plane.

Steve nodded his head respectively at the women who stood like statues. They nodded in return and followed Steve and T'Challa up the steps to the plane.

Regardless of his time spent in the modern world, Steve found himself surprised, yet again, by today's luxuries. T'Challa's plane was spacious; its seats were designed like posh recliners.

Members of the Dora Milaje whispered something to T'Challa. Steve continued to stare around the lavish plane as the women moved to the front of the plane.

Violet was revealed sleeping in her seat. She hugged her knees to her chest. Steve wondered why the woman did not take advantage of the recliner-aspect of the seat.

T'Challa approached Violet and lightly tapped her wrist.

She shifted tiredly in her seat. Violet was comfortable dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a blue hoodie. She rubbed her eyes and slowly smiled up at T'Challa.

"Took you long enough. I was picked up three hours ago."

T'Challa nodded apologetically. "We had to take precautions. To ensure no one was following you. Or that you would be joining us."

Violet realized suddenly that Captain America was looking at her. She nearly threw herself out of the chair, stumbled and caught herself, and straightened out her messy ponytail.

With a sheepish grin, Violet waved her hand – awkwardly – and said, "Hello, Captain America."

Steve smirked. "Ma'am."

"Ma'am?" Violet laughed. "I think we can just stick with Violet. Or Vi."

"Please call me Steve." Steve reached out to shake Violet's hand. She immediately realized how strong his grip was and giggled uncomfortably.

T'Challa smiled at the two's introduction. "Captain, Violet Smith has agreed to assist with Sergeant Barnes's recovery."

Steve nodded in a thankful way. "I appreciate your help." Violet nodded back.

Steve cocked his head to the side and asked, "I'm still trying to understand how-"

T'Challa quickly cut Steve off: "Ms. Smith is not obligated to explain herself, captain. I can vouch for her abilities and can confirm she will help Barnes."

A Dora Milaje member waved toward T'Challa. T'Challa nodded and turned away from Steve and Violet. "We're about to take off. I suggest you sit." T'Challa turned back to Violet. "It is your choice if you wish to tell the captain your story."

X.X.X.X.X.

T'Challa sat with the women in the front of the plane. They were in silent discussion, occasionally turning back to Steve and Violet.

Steve sat across from Violet. She avoided his gaze, taking a sip from her bottled water.

"I'm sorry if I'm questioning your place here," Steve finally said. Violet looked up, puzzled. Steve continued: "Bucky is my best friend. Like a brother. You being able to help is a godsend. I just…I just wanted to make sure-"

"That he's in good hands. I understand." Violet squished the plastic part of her water bottle. "I'm sorry about T'Challa. He's quite protective of me."

"Are you two…?" Steve asked with amused interest.

Violet let out an uncomfortable "HA" and covered her mouth, seeing the reaction from the Dora Milaje.

Violet giggled. "No. T'Challa is just a friend. He…he saved me little over six months ago."

"Saved you? From what?" Steve inquired.

She pushed her lips together. It was clear she was trying to find the words.

"Long story," Violet breathed. She looked up at Steve. "But how about the cliff notes?"

Steve sat up in his chair with his hands in his lap. Violet shifted in her seat and cleared her throat.

"So…I guess my abilities would be similar to Wanda Maximoff's…"

Steve raised an eyebrow.

Violet continued, "I'm an archivist for the New York Public Library. I've learned a few things about some of you Avengers. Plus T'Challa filled me in a few things." She smiled. "I can manipulate…stuff around me. Not everything? I can move things with my mind. I can sometimes feel…feel danger coming in close. I'm not really sure the true range of my abilities. But one thing I've been good at since I was a teenager was…mind stuff. I don't know what you would call it. But I could listen in on people's thoughts. Not necessarily read their minds. But emotions. See memories. I know it doesn't make a lot of sense. But my powers never have…"

The young woman stared out the window for a second. She took a deep breath. "I once helped a solider fight through his PTSD. Not completely? But enough. I've helped people with Alzheimer's or dementia find their way back. Of course, those are degenerative diseases, so I can't fix them completely…but I can still help find their way back. I'm not explaining this well."

Steve shook his head. "No no. I understand. It's not easy to explain this stuff. How did you get your abilities?

Violet bit her lip and shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't know if I was born like this. Or if it happened. I've been on the run since I can remember. No one really explained anything to me. I just had to learn…"

Violet opened her palms up to Steve. He looked down and watched as a faint gray light emitted from her hands. The light quickly vanished.

"I have this…more active power," Violet explained, cracking her knuckles. This light that shoots from my hands. If I focus hard enough, I can manipulate it into this force. It has quite the punch."

"Do you use these abilities often?" Steve asked.

"Never."

"Why?"

"Well…" Violet thought slowly. "The more I use, the more I put myself at risk." She met Steve's questionable glance. "Risk for exposure. I used to have this enemy. Hell, he can still be out there. He could feel me using my power. The more I used, the more likely he was able to find me."

"Where is he now?"

"Dead. I hope."

"Did T'Challa kill him?" Steve looked back at the Wakandan king. T'Challa was still in conversation with the Dora Milaje.

"I did."

Steve snapped back to Violet. He could not imagine Violet doing something like that.

"Although I have no idea if I did the job," Violet explained. "No body. No evidence. Just a burned-down warehouse in Paris."

The solider leaned in close, elbows on his knees. Steve asked gently, "Whatever your story, I'm grateful you're willing to help Bucky."

Violet nodded in agreement. "I haven't helped someone like that in so long. T'Challa thinks it's best to avoid those types of situations."

Steve suddenly smiled and asked, "How did you avoid SHIELD? I'm sure they would have had an interest in you."

Laughing, Violet sat back in her seat. "Doubtful. Like I said, I don't know what I can do. I have limited knowledge. Plus I never really do anything with my power. Not anymore."

"Who was the first solider you helped?

"The last Black Panther."

His mouth dropped. Steve narrowed his eyes and looked back at T'Challa, then back at Violet.

"What?" Steve asked.

Violet continued, "I lived in Wakanda when I was a teenager. Less than two years. I knew T'Challa, then. He was like the brother I never had. The last Black Panther was in his prime. But he had difficulty coping with…certain events. He was the first person I tried my…thing on. It worked."

"You've lived in Wakanda?" Steve's interest continued to grow.

"I've moved around a lot, like I said," Violet clarified. "T'Challa's father was made aware of my…activities. He had me brought to Wakanda. I didn't live in the village, just in one of their facilities. Out of harm's way. But I was here for a year and a half."

"What forced you to leave?"

"The man who had been hunting me my entire life."

X.X.X.X.X.

T'Challa placed a decorative green blanket over a sleeping Violet. He turned to Steve and the two men moved across the plane to speak quietly.

The two sat across from one another. T'Challa offered Steve a glass of dark whiskey. Steve declined.

"There's a lot she's not telling," Steve noted.

T'Challa nodded. "Her story is complicated. Her life is difficult."

"How can she be helped?"

"She needs to stay hidden." T'Challa filled his glass again. "She knows that, despite her mind magics and her ability to help others, she keeps other safer by withholding her gifts."

"The guy she mentioned," Steve asked softly, "she doesn't sound convinced that the man after her is dead."

"He's dead," T'Challa snapped.

"And if not?" Steve asked. "There's still the big bad out there."

"We will protect her. Wakanda will protect her." T'Challa gripped the glass tightly. "We will destroy any entity that wishes to destroy us."

Steve breathed through his nose, a hint of annoyance rising in his chest. "T'Challa, you need to tell me more about this girl."

T'Challa looked up with a cold glance. "She will help Barnes. After that, if she wishes to tell you more about her struggles, that is her choice. But for now, captain, I would recommend you rest. This is not a short flight."

X.X.X.X.X.


	4. Chapter 3: Bucky

**Chapter 3: Bucky**

 _How? How can I…_ Steve whirled around. _Again?_

When Wanda Maximoff bewitched Steve Roger's mind, the soldier had found himself in a ballroom celebrating the end of the war.

Steve was back in the same ballroom.

Still dressed in 1940s military attire, Steve looked around.

No one.

The last vision had included a young Peggy Carter. _Is Peggy here?_ Steve thought excitedly.

No one.

It all felt real to Steve Rogers. He touched his face, feeling his stubble, and then ran his hands through his hair. _All so real._

Steve discovered his second oddity – he was unable to move from the floor. His thoughts forced his body to move. But nothing happened. "Move your feet," Steve told himself. Nothing.

He whirled around. Astonishment covered Steve's face. Two new figures were standing before him.

The first was the _original_ Steve Rogers. Young, small, and pale-looking.

The second was Captain America. He stood tall and smiled heroically in Steve's direction.

He looked back and forth between them, too stunned to say anything.

"Quite the puzzle," a delicate voice said.

Steve turned around. There was a table in the room. Drinking from a glass of champagne, Violet leaned back in her chair. Steve found she too was wearing 1940s garb. She wore a brown dress, a dark shade of lipstick, and her hair was curled back.

"What is this?" Steve demanded.

Violet flicked her wrist and another glass of champagne appeared on the table. A second chair appeared, too.

Steve found he could move. He sat down with Violet, still puzzled, and looked back at the other two Steves.

"Who are they?"

"You, of course," Violet said. She placed her champagne back on the table. She leaned forward, getting a better glance at the two Steves.

"Here's what we have," Violet explained, "your younger self. The you before you were Captain America. Then Captain America."

"What's the point of all of this? What _is_ this?" Steve thought. He was growing tired of this game.

"It's not a game," Violet said in response to Steve's thoughts. He looked startled. Violet continued:

"We're in your mind, Steve. I figured this was the best way to further explain my abilities…without…you know, actual explaining."

Violet stood up from the table, placing a comforting hand on Steve's shoulder. The two looked back at the young, frail Steve and the god-like Captain America.

"We're in my mind?" Steve asked.

The woman nodded. She walked toward the two men before them.

Steve followed, eyeing the three figures suspiciously.

"When you fell asleep on the plane, I figured this was the best time to make my introduction," Violet stated, studying the young Steve's face. "I'm sitting next to you right now. We're connected. I can see and feel what's in your mind. But don't worry. I'm not poking around where I'm not wanted."

"This does feel invasive," the soldier said firmly.

Violet turned to look at Steve. "This is how I'm going to help Bucky. This example might help you too."

Turning to Captain America, Violet smiled and looked back at Steve.

"Here's the thing, Steve. You're at a crossroads. You are fighting an internal battle." She pointed at young Steve. "You don't miss him. This man, while he was a good man, was not your goal. But…you miss his life. You miss his friends and family. His time." Violet winked at Captain America playfully. "Now this guy…this is who you think you are. He is what defines you."

Captain America looked quite proud with Violet's comments. Steve narrowed his eyes at everyone in the room.

Steve and Violet seated back at the table.

Violet explained: "This is exactly what Bucky is dealing with. Once I'm in his mind, I can identify the triggers and remove them. This will undo the brainwashing."

"So it'll be like…this?" Steve asked, motioning to the other two Steves, who had disappeared.

"His may be more…active." Violet sipped at the imaginary champagne. "I didn't need to engage your subconscious much to see what your underlying issues are. I don't mean to offend. We're all fucked up, aren't we?"

Violet snapped her fingers and Steve found the scenery had changed. The ballroom had been replaced by a beach. They both sat in reclining white chairs with their toes in the sand.

They were wearing their casual clothes. Steve thought he would get hot under the sun in his leather jacket, but he felt incredibly cool and comfortable.

"Where is this?" Steve asked.

"Just a happy place," Violet sighed. The waves of the ocean crashed against one another, as if exchanging a violent greeting. Birds could be heard in the distance. "It's my happy place. It helps to get away sometimes."

"How are you going to help Bucky?"

Violet took a sip from the daiquiri that had appeared in her hand. "Same way. I'll help him face his demons. I can't completely fix bad memories. I can't take that away. But I can help with the triggers."

Steve stared off into the ocean feeling calm. "This is how you've helped others?"

She nodded. "Some are more complicated. I really just help people find their way back. PTSD is no joke. But I've never helped someone who was brainwashed. But we'll see."

She turned to Steve and Violet shrugged. "I'm sorry if it felt like I was invading your bubble back there. I just thought it best to show you."

Steve smiled for the first time since he had discovered he was back in the ballroom. "It's okay. So. What are _my_ issues?"

Violet laughed. "Like I said, we all have issues. But what I can tell…you're still trying to find your place in the world. A solider? A super hero?" Violet shrugged and took another sip. "Maybe you're just a man trying to do good things. You are _you_. You're the not the same young man before the serum. You may not be the Captain America the world temporarily turned its back on before the accords. But you're trying."

"I guess that's all any of us can do."

"Steve?"

"Yes?"

"It's time to wake up."

X.X.X.X.X.

Steve's eyes shot opened. T'Challa was staring down at him, confused. Steve quickly turned and found Violet sitting up in her seat, smiling. T'Challa, realizing what transpired, sighed.

"I hope you gained helpful information, captain," T'Challa said. "We have arrived."

The plane had landed when Steve woke up. He looked around the plane and saw that its passengers were already exiting.

Steve looked back at Violet, who was gathering her hoodie and duffel bag.

"Weird," Steve stated simply, meeting Violet's gaze.

She smiled. "Welcome to my world."

X.X.X.X.X.

The plane had landed in the outskirts of the Wakandan jungle. Steve and Violet, having already visited Wakanda, were not surprised when they had to be blindfolded. They sat in a large vehicle, waiting to be transported to the facility housing Bucky Barnes.

While glad to be back in Wakanda, Violet was disappointed she could not enjoy the view of the jungle and its vast forests. She could imagine the thick greenery surrounding them all.

"Glad to be back?" Steve joked.

Violet pushed her shoulder up against Steve's playfully. "Eh. It was home for a good while. Although I wasn't allowed in the villages. I basically lived in the compound."

T'Challa's deep voice surprised the two: "We are here."

They felt the car stop and others exited the vehicle. Steve removed his blindfold and left the car. Violet hesitantly removed her blindfold and stared out the window.

The facility was gray and perfectly rectangular. The forest around the facility could easily hide its location from the air. Violet could see Wakandan scientists and doctors walk the halls through the building's windows.

X.X.X.X.X.

T'Challa led Steve and Violet down the hall in the compound. Men and women dressed in white coats nodded their heads respectfully toward T'Challa. Violet and Steve gave their bags to two men who, without a word, motioned for their belongings.

"They will take your things to your room," T'Challa explained. "I was thinking we could take an early dinner. Then a good night's rest-"

"Bucky," Violet said simply.

T'Challa sighed heavily. Steve watched the king of Wakanda carefully eye Violet.

"I believe rest is best," T'Challa whispered.

Violet smiled and touched her friend's arm. "I think a good night's rest will be best when it's over."

A man in a white coat approached T'Challa. In a language Steve did not understand, the two Wakandans spoke gently, and then the white coat-man nodded.

T'Challa explained, "They will prep Barnes."

X.X.X.X.X.

Steve felt his stomach tighten at the sight of Bucky. It had been too long since his friend had volunteered himself into a cryo-induced coma.

Men in white coats surrounded Bucky on an examining table. The table looked comfy enough.

Bucky Barnes, in his white clothes, slept peacefully, despite the IVs sticking from him to various medical equipment.

Violet and T'Challa kept their distance, allowing the doctors to carefully prep the sleeping Bucky. Violet could not see Bucky through the crowd of doctors. Steve was a large enough man to block her view, too.

"Are you sure about this?" T'Challa asked.

Violet half-laughed and shrugged. "You were the one who brought me here. I'm just here to play along."

"It's not a game."

"It never was."

Violet watched curiously as an empty examining table was brought. It was pushed next to Bucky.

Steve turned to Violet and stepped aside from Bucky. Violet carefully approached the examining table.

She had seen Bucky Barnes in photos before. She had seen pre-war Bucky, war Bucky, and the "Winter Soldier" Bucky.

Violet stood close to Bucky. She sadly stared at the missing arm with a black wrap at the end of his shoulder. She reached out and touched his chest. It was almost surprising for Violet to feel how warm the man was. She studied his face, familiarizing herself with his beard and brown hair. _Hello, Handsome,_ Violet thought. She could feel her cheeks redden.

With her hand still on Bucky's chest, Violet closed her eyes.

Steve stood directly next to Violet, looking into her face deeply. She simply looked like she was closing her eyes, as if shielding them from the sunlight.

Violet opened her eyes. "I can sense him. Good."

"What does that mean?" Steve asked.

She turned to the solider and back at his friend on the table. "I'm not acquainted with Bucky. It may be difficult at first. But there's an opening. I can get in."

"How long?" T'Challa asked.

The woman walked to Bucky's other side. She touched his arm, feeling his muscle; her hand slid down, touching his open palm. Violet touched his fingers. She felt tough hands.

Violet entwined their fingers together. She gulped, nervously.

She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes again.

The room felt thick in silence. It was suffocating. All eyes were on Violet, the woman holding hands with an unconscious man she had never met before.

Violet looked up at T'Challa and Steve. "I'm not sure how long it will take. Just give me time. Just don't interrupt."

T'Challa motioned for the empty examining table. Violet hopped on, removing her hoodie.

She took the hair tie from her ponytail, letting her hair sit comfortable against her face.

She lied back, body parallel to Bucky. She reached over and held hands with the sleeping man.

Violet took in a deep breath. She looked at T'Challa and Steve and gave a hopeful grin.

"Please don't be worried. Like I said, I don't know how long this will take. As long as I'm in his mind, he'll sleep." Violet adjusted her head's position, trying to make herself comfortable. But there was no way to ease this task. Violet suddenly felt a great tension in her shoulders. Her anxiety was skyrocketing to the point that she had wished she had taken her pills before this. She felt nauseous. The weight of the world was on her shoulders and she was scared.

"We will be here," T'Challa said comfortingly.

Steve nodded and placed his hand down on Violet's shoulder. "Thank you," he said.

Violet nodded, smiled, and closed her eyes.

Her body appeared to go limp; it was as if she had suddenly fallen asleep to a tranquilizer.

But Violet's hand, holding Bucky's, seemed to tighten.

X.X.X.X.X.

Violet recognized she was in Brooklyn. Not today's Brooklyn, though. It was 1940s Brooklyn. It was the kind of Brooklyn she had seen in old movies.

But there were no people. No kids riding their bikes down the streets or men gambling in the alleyways. All was quiet in this 1940s Brooklyn.

She walked on Washington Street, waiting for anyone to show up. The park and buildings around were empty. She saw the Brooklyn Bridge in view and –

Violet's eyes widened and she bolted. She ran as fast as she could, feet hitting the hard pavement. She was not physically active in the real world, and being in Bucky Barnes's mind, did not make exercise any easier.

In the distance, she could see three men fighting. Each one seemed to fight one another. It was hard to tell if there was a specific target, but it was a mess.

When Violet could see what was happening, she stopped, placing herself in a safe spot.

She saw three Buckys fighting. Violet's eyes tightened, as if suddenly getting a migraine.

There was war-Bucky. The dashing and charming young man in an army uniform. He had a debonair grin on the whole time.

The Winter Solider-Bucky looked fierce; Violet had recognized him from photos.

Then there was the real Bucky. He was not in the all white attire the Wakandan doctors had dressed him in. He wore ragged jeans and a red long-sleeved shirt. His metal arm was still intact.

Violet watched fearfully as the three men fought one another. War-Bucky seemed to take turns on fighting the Winter Solider and Bucky. Bucky was doing his best to fight the other two. Winter Solider seemed mainly focused on Bucky.

Metal arms clashed and faces were nearly knocked to the ground. No one was close to falling. It was as if they were all fighting with the same fighting skill and stamina. But they were all different.

Violet was unsure of what to do. Entering a new person's mind, someone she did not meet prior, was a new experience. She was almost afraid to speak up and draw attention.

Bucky struggled. He punched war-Bucky in the face, forcing the young solider back. The Winter Solider, with a black face mask, took advantage of the opportunity. He charged at Bucky, grabbing him by the throat. Bucky winced, struggling to breathe. His own metal arm struggled to fight off the Winter Solider.

"HEY!" Violet shouted. Her face went pale when all three Buckys looked at her. It was almost funny to see war-Bucky and Bucky realize this new person on the street.

The Winter Solider, face hidden, may have looked confused. But Violet could not tell. Instead, she watched as the Winter Solider dropped Bucky and suddenly charged at her.

"Shit," Violet muttered, taking a few steps back, waiting to be tackled.

But war-Bucky came to her rescue. He grabbed the Winter Solider from behind, keeping a strong hold of him.

"Get out of here, doll!" War-Bucky said.

Violet bit her lip and ran toward the real Bucky, who was slowly getting up.

She paused before reaching Bucky, turned back to war-Bucky, and yelled, "Mind helping us get a head start?"

War-Bucky winked, smiled, and body slammed the Winter Solider into the street.

Violet nearly clumsily slammed into Bucky. But his body was strong enough to withstand her small impact. He grabbed her by the arms, looked at her confusingly, and asked, "Who are you?"

Violet grabbed his arms back and forced him into a slight jog. "Let's get out of here, first."

The two ran side by side. Bucky turned back, watching his other two selves fight each other. The Winter Solider now seemed more adamant to get to Bucky and the girl.

"Happy place happy place happy place," Violet muttered to herself, quickly getting out of breath. Bucky overheard the woman and stared incredulously at her.

The beach did not appear around them. Frustrated, Violet stopped and Bucky stopped with her.

Violet moved close to Bucky, putting her hands on his chest. Bucky seemed more alarmed by the gesture. He was unsure of trusting this person.

She looked up and desperately asked, "Think of a place. Not here. Somewhere else. You have to take us there. Just think."

Bucky's mind was racing. He felt sure he had been fighting the other two Buckys for what felt like years. Suddenly, this new person was here. A woman. And she was not making any sense."

"You have to imagine us out of here," Violet stammered, watching the other two Buckys getting closer. The Winter Soldier's body movement made it appear he was hungry for action. Violet looked up into Bucky's face. It was the first time she had seen the blue eyes.

"Bucky, please trust me," Violet begged. She clutched his chest and said, "Think of a place outside of here. Not the bridge. Not Washington Street. Hurry!"

Bucky turned. His eyes widened as he saw a metal fist nearly make contact with his face.

X.X.X.X.X.

Bucky opened his eyes. He found himself clutching the woman to his chest.

She looked up. Violet was unfamiliar with the area. But a calm swept over her face when she realized it was just herself and Bucky there. No one else was around.

Violet, realizing the closeness between her and Bucky, peeled herself off and, with an awkward grin, said, "Good job."

Bucky looked around, chest heaving with deep, anxious breaths.

"I can't believe it," Bucky whispered to himself.

Violet looked around. She saw what looked like a globe made of steel with a lot of empty space. In the distance was an empty stage with an ornate banner that said _STARK INDUSTRIES_.

"The Stark Expo?" Bucky asked.

Violet looked around and hugged herself, suddenly feeling a chill.

Bucky finally turned to Violet, as if he had forgotten she was there.

"Hello," Violet said, waving her hand.

"Who are you?" Bucky demanded.

"My name is Violet. I'm a friend of T'Challa's. And Steve's, I guess. He and I have just met. But umm…I'm here to help you."

Bucky cautiously eyed Violet. He pressed his lips tightly together.

"We're at the compound in Wakanda. You have just been woken up. Not all the way. I'm lying down next to you. I'm in your mind. See, I have these abilities…" Violet rolled her eyes at herself. "Listen, it's complicated. I'm complicated. But I'm here to help you."

"Help?" Bucky asked. "How?"

"Steve wants me to get rid of the triggers in your brain. To de-brainwash you."

"Can you?"

"Well, your subconscious war-Bucky seems helpful," Violet thought aloud. "He was willing to fight off the Winter Solider one for us. As long as we have some time together…I think I can." Violet thought back and cocked her head to the side. "Hey, the other one, he called me 'doll.' Is that like 'chick?'"

Bucky stared quizzically at Violet. He had many questions, and so far, no answers. He realized Violet was still waiting for an answer.

"Oh, yes. I guess. We used to call girls that." Bucky winced. "I'm sorry if I…if he…if you were offended."

Bucky's demeanor changed. At first, he was defensive, yet still concerned if Violet was going to be attacked by the other Buckys. Now, he was relaxed. He was confused, but relaxed. He looked at Violet and approached her.

Violet watched as Bucky extended his hand – the one of flesh – and Violet accepted. With their hands touching, Bucky felt a sudden electricity between their fingers. He looked down, puzzled by the sensation.

"What was that?" Bucky asked, his hand still holding Violet's.

Violet smiled gently. "In order for this to work, for there to be a connection, I have to be touching you for our minds to work together. So, in the real world, we're holding hands. The closer we get physically, here, it makes it easier for us to connect to the real world too."

"I'm dreaming?" Bucky asked.

Violet nodded.

"It all feels so…" Bucky started, but his voice trailed off.

"Real, I know," Violet added. "Probably feels like you've been here for years?"

Bucky nodded.

Violet shook Bucky's hand finally. "It's nice to meet you, Bucky."

"You too, Violet," Bucky smiled.

Bucky's smile faded quickly. Violet's gentle face began to squirm. She held her face in pain, palms grasping her ears.

"What is it?" Bucky asked worriedly. He held her arms, thinking holding her would help.

But in Violet's mind, the pain was immense.

Violet could feel Bucky's pain. Even with the real Bucky standing with her, holding her, she was absorbing his thoughts all too quickly. Bucky had no idea what was going on…

 _What the hell is this? Stop. No. Stop._ Bucky's pained voice rang through her eyes. _No. NO. No._

Violet tried to refocus.

 _Who is this girl? Why is she here? I'm dreaming. Why can't I wake up?_

In addition to the voices, Violet began to see visions of Bucky's memories. She saw a young Bucky argue with a drunken man. Young Bucky took a swing from the drunken man. Then Violet watched as an older, teenage Bucky fought with a gang in alleyway. A small, blonde boy was on his side, clutching a broken nose. There was also war-Bucky, dressed in a stiff army uniform, dancing with a beautiful button-nosed brunette in a club.

The visions kept changing. She saw memories – good and bad – all hitting her in the face. She was shaking and she wanted to throw up. She felt everything – physically and mentally – tighten.

 _The Winter Solider…Dead bodies hit the ground. The ground kept changing. Sometimes it was pavement. Or concrete. Even sand. But dead bodies kept hitting the ground-_

"Violet!" Bucky shouted.

The pain lessened. Violet's eyes shot opened. She was in tears. The man holding her had no idea she had received the fast-forward version of his life. She did not want to see it. But she could not help it. With others, Violet had found ways of blocking herself from personal experiences. But with someone new, someone like Bucky, Violet discovered she dealing with something else completely.

Bucky's jaw tightened at the sight of the woman who was practically falling apart. He was not even fully convinced she was a real girl. _I could still be dreaming,_ he thought. _Finally taking a break from fighting and dreaming of a pretty girl, for once._

Violet broke out into a sob. Bucky clutched her to his chest. She tried to speak in between sobs: "I" (sob) "am" (sob) "so" (sob) " _sorrryyyy_ …." Her voice trailed off. She then coughed and choked out, "And" (sob) "thanks for" (sob) "thinking I'm" (sob) " _pretttyyyy_ …"

Bucky caressed her hair. He felt this was all too inappropriate. He knew this woman for a minute and he was embracing her in a confused state.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

Violet opened her mouth, trying to breathe gently. She wiped her cheeks and took in a deep breath. "Your…your memories. They're…overwhelming. I didn't mean…I didn't mean to…"

"What can I do?" Bucky asked.

Violet gently pushed Bucky's chest away. One hand was on his waist, the other was still wiping tears away.

She looked around and pointed behind Bucky.

"Ice cream. You can get me ice cream," Violet explained, voice still thick with a tender emotion.

"Ice cream?" Bucky asked. He turned around and, to his surprise, saw an ice cream man, in classic white uniform, standing by a car. He held two cones in his hand, motioning for Bucky to get them.

"Who the hell is he?" Bucky asked.

"I brought him here," Violet asked. "Ice cream first. Then we'll get started."

X.X.X.X.X.

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews and messages! I appreciate the feedback.


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